


Victories

by teztrash (teztime)



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 10:31:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13211892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teztime/pseuds/teztrash
Summary: Prowl and Minimus Ambus resume their regularly-scheduled chess games around the time of Megatron's trial.





	Victories

**Author's Note:**

> Secretsolenoid gift fic for the best lil root vegetable around: Yam.
> 
>  
> 
> _Prowl + Minimus Ambus playing some robo-chess or something._

"You know I'm going to win, so you can resign, we can play this out, or you can resign."

Prowl lifted his hand from his bishop as he watched Minimus consider the board.

Prowl did not look at the board. He had it memorized. He could calculate the position and momentum of 800 objects; there were far fewer objects than that on the chess board now, and their movements were further constrained by the game's rules.

Prowl had more than enough space left in his processor to indulge in the warm glow of anticipated victory.

He was flush with victory, actually: both anticipated, and those already realized. He anticipated that he would win this game. He anticipated he would win the trial. He counted Minimus's presence opposite him, seated white and green and crimson-gazed rather than the more imposing Magnus armor, as two realized victories.

Their recent interaction had been ... well, Prowl would categorize their last exchange before the trial as frosty, bordering on hostile. But Minimus's words, though cutting, had been right: Prowl _was_ lonely. He missed these games. They had been playing together for a very long time: in person, when they were stationed together, and by comm, when not. The Lost Light's disappearance had left their last game hanging in endgame. He hoped that Minimus's willingness to wipe the game and start clean was a metaphor that extended past the board. In Minimus's acceptance of the invitation, Prowl counted a victory.

Prowl's second victory was that Minimus felt comfortable enough to arrive without the armor. Prowl had addressed the invitation to Minimus Ambus, and hoped. Prowl was one of the few privy to Minimus's identity within the Magnus armor. They had played face to face like this before -- more often than not, when circumstances allowed it. They didn't always have the chance. It demanded a level of privacy and security that was scarce in war, which made every moment that much more valued.

But it was Minimus that answered Prowl now, humor marked in the subtle curve of his lips beneath the Ambus insignia: "I looked up cognitive bias as you suggested, Prowl. I'm not going to resign. However, I am willing to accept your surrender."

Prowl's features eased in a smile. If Minimus was teasing him -- muted, stiff, but with an undoubted sense of _play_ in his gaze -- then whatever tensions lingered, they would be able to work them out.

"No," Prowl said, watching as Minimus navigated through the minefield of their midgame to find his next move. "I would not expect you to. You clearly relish an impossible defense."

"I am acting as orator for the defense because Optimus requested it -- but even if he hadn't, the law demands it," Minimus said.

"You could have passed."

Minimus studied Prowl a moment, looking up from the board. Prowl tilted his head in a wordless gesture: he wasn't suggesting that Minimus _should_ have. His tone had been curious, rather than accusatory, and Minimus dipped his head in acknowledgment of that.

Minimus answered, his expression grave: "Yes, I could have passed. I could have allowed someone with less experience to take my place, or someone less willing to pursue the law with due vigor."

Minimus paused then, gaze dropping to the board. "Even as Tyrest's enforcer--" And his voice carried only the barest waver; if Prowl hadn't been paying such close attention, he might have missed it. It was clear that Minimus had only begun to process Tyrest's betrayal and his own change in position. "--I found that I preferred pursuing justice to defending the accused. Particularly when -- how did Rodimus put it? The accused's guilt is literally beyond a doubt?"

"A rare outburst of sense," Prowl muttered.

Minimus inclined his head. "I am not _comfortable_ aiding Megatron's defense, but that makes it only the more important. It is vital and necessary that this is done, and done well. History will judge us based on our conduct in this--." He broke off, and, softer, he said, "And I needed to."

"Ah." Prowl measured his own convictions on that point and found them ... weak. He would have been willing to pass on aiding Megatron's defense. He felt no guilt or hesitation over it. Even if he didn't share Minimus's convictions, he recognized their importance to Minimus.

"Well," Prowl said, his tone lighter, "fortunately you are used to losing to me."

The possibilities of Minimus's victories were narrowing, even as Prowl's expanded.

Prowl had left his center weak in his opening moves, striking with his knights, in an attempt to lure Minimus into a trap. Minimus, naturally cautious, had avoided the easy capture as he played a traditional, defensive opening. Prowl had ruthlessly exploited that caution until Minimus had made a sudden, uncharacteristically reckless move with his queen that rebalanced the board. Not entirely: Prowl still had an advantage in pieces, but Minimus was left with a strong position. It was hard for Prowl to avoid seeing something of Rodimus's influence in that boldness. It irritated him, even as it interested him.

Truthfully, Minimus could not meet Prowl's level of play, but Prowl enjoyed seeing how far Minimus had come since their first games. He had made it a practice with all those who wore the Magnus armor: a way to test them, then to train them. It created and strengthened a social bond that otherwise might not have existed. Prowl used the respect that the name Ultra Magnus had earned in the Autobot forces. The friendships that he built with the Magnus armor bearers were some of his more useful tools.

But with Minimus, who had worn the Magnus armor longer than any of its other bearers, the logic of it had long since faded to a comfortable touchstone. Prowl allowed himself few friendships. His position did not allow for it -- and there were few who sought it. Prowl was not a comfortable person to know. He was aware of that. He did not exactly regret it, but sometimes he grieved the necessity. He knew that Overlord would join a long list of strains on their relationship.

"Your overconfidence is one of your less attractive traits." Minimus positioned his knight in such a way that it would present a forked threat his next move unless countered.

Prowl answered the threat by pinning the knight with his bishop. Minimus dared not move it now, and Prowl freed himself to rampage over half the board.

Prowl sat forward and allowed a smile to spread across his features. "My competence is one of my most attractive traits."

Minimus looked up from the board to meet Prowl's gaze with a touch of fluster in how quickly he looked away. His mustache twitched with the pull of his lips beneath the insignia as he said, "Yes, well," and pulled himself upright. Minimus reached for his knight -- to withdraw it, Prowl thought -- but stopped before his hand touched the piece. He looked at Prowl and then reached for his rook instead.

Minimus tended to play a rook-heavy game. It wasn't hard to see why; a rook presented a strong, straight-forward threat that complemented Minimus's defensive playstyle.

Yet Minimus moved his rook forward to sacrifice it and reclaim territory, a move far out of bounds of everything Prowl expected from him. The surprise must have shown on Prowl's face, as Minimus's systems hummed with pleasure as he watched Prowl recalculate. He looked pleased with himself.

Looking at the board, realizing that he had underestimated Minimus, Prowl granted that Minimus had reason for that pleasure. Endgame had advanced on him far before he was ready for it, as he brought his king into play.

The balance had shifted. In a single move, with all it signaled, it seemed likely that Minimus would win this game. Prowl found he didn't mind losing, not like this. He studied Minimus over the board, watching enjoyment thaw the last of Minimus's reserve into a subdued warmth.

Prowl could afford to cede one victory to Minimus, he supposed. He still had the trial's conclusion to look forward to.

After all, Megatron's guilt truly was literally beyond doubt.


End file.
